


Trials of Commitment

by merelysherlocked



Series: Gray Area [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Drug Use, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Sex, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Light Angst, M/M, Sherlock Being Sherlock, Weddings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-30
Updated: 2014-05-19
Packaged: 2018-01-17 14:05:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1390543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merelysherlocked/pseuds/merelysherlocked
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock and John's relationship has been growing steady over the past few months. However, are they ready to take their relationship to the next step? Will Sherlock be ready to put something else slightly before his work?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much to everyone who read my other story, Gray Area! As a relatively new author of fanfiction, it means a lot to me.

A year ago, if someone would have told Sherlock that he would end up with a best friend, he would not have believed them. After all, he was Sherlock Holmes. He was the high-functioning sociopath. He was the "freak" that no one wanted to deal with. Every time he was called "freak", he worried about John leaving him.

John. The army doctor who decided to live in 221B Baker Street with him. When Sherlock first met John, he doubted that he would want to live with him. But John decided to live with him. To this day, Sherlock wasn't quite sure as to why John agreed to live with him, but he was not complaining. If it wasn't for John, he would have probably been alone for the rest of his life.

Being alone didn't really scare Sherlock until he met John. John Watson somehow inched his way into Sherlock's cold heart, and showed him that people could be caring; that people could be there for others. Of course, he didn't really trust anyone except for John, but trusting one person was better than trusting none. That's what he thought, at least.

Sherlock stood in front of the toaster, waiting for the bread to pop out of it. He normally didn't make breakfast, but this was a special day. The bread popped out of the toaster; Sherlock quickly spread some strawberry jam on the pieces and placed them on the table next to John's omelette. Sherlock adjusted the silverware so it was perfectly in line with the plates. He smiled at the arrangement and then ran down the stairs.

As if on cue, the door opened. John rubbed his hands together and stepped into the flat. His cheeks were bright red. Sherlock smirked and pulled John close to him. John stumbled into Sherlock's arms. Sherlock wrapped his arms around John until he started to squirm. John chuckled.

"What is all the hugging for, Sherlock? I only went for a walk."

"I'm glad that you're back, John. Is there something wrong with that?" Sherlock frowned.

Even though Sherlock knew that John would never leave him, he still believed that John would leave sometime. Sherlock knew that John cared about him a lot, but Sherlock thought that all of his quirks would make John leave some day. Something on Sherlock's face must've given his thoughts away because John wrapped his arms around Sherlock.

"Sherlock, don't worry about me leaving. I told you a long time ago that I wouldn't leave you. And, I love how you greeted me. I wish you greeted me like this more often," John said, breaking the hug and going up the stairs.

"I'm still new to this, John," Sherlock said, bounding up the stairs behind John. "You know that I worry about things that I shouldn't."

"I know, Sherlock. And I'm glad that you worry about us, but you really do not need to."

Sherlock smiled and followed John into the kitchen. John stopped in his tracks when he saw that the table was already set with coffee and other breakfast food.

"Sherlock! You didn't have to do this," John said, shaking his head.

"I know," Sherlock said softly, "but I wanted to. Today's special, after all."

Today really was special. And it wasn't special because they had solved a case. Today marked their one year anniversary. It was hard for Sherlock to believe that a whole year had passed since they originally got together. To him, they had only started to date a few days ago. Surprisingly, the past year had gone very smoothly. Of course, John and Sherlock fought, but they always made up afterwards. It was impossible for them to stay mad at each other for longer than a day.

"I really appreciate this, Sherlock," John said, taking a seat at the table.

He took a bite of the toast. Sherlock watched him chew with wide eyes. He bit his lip. John smirked.

"Don't worry, Sherlock, I like the toast. You did a good job. You didn't burn it," John said, putting the toast down.

John had taught Sherlock how to make simple breakfast foods about a month or so ago. At first, he thought that Sherlock would be a very good cook. Of course though, Sherlock managed to surprise him. Apparently consulting detectives were not good chefs straight out of the gate. John hadn't even tried to teach Sherlock how to make anything complicated at first, either. He had just tried to show Sherlock how to make toast. Sherlock, surprisingly, burnt the toast completely. When it popped out of the toaster, it was rock solid. Sherlock tried to get John to take a bite of it, but John refused. He told Sherlock that toast was not supposed to be the color of night. Sherlock was upset about his lack of culinary skills at first, but after lots of practice, he eventually made toast that was only a little burnt.

The toast Sherlock had made today though was perfect. It was perfectly tan and had the correct amount of jam. John polished the toast off in a few bites.

"How did you like the toast, John?" Sherlock asked after John was finished.

"It was fantastic, Sherlock," John said, digging into the omelet.

Sherlock nodded.

"Good. So, is there any time that I should be ready to go out to dinner at?"

John stared at Sherlock with wide eyes. No, Sherlock was not supposed to know about dinner. He had planned this dinner months in advance. If Sherlock deduced where the dinner would be, the dinner wouldn't be as nearly as exciting. John wanted tonight to be different; John wanted Sherlock to be completely surprised when he looked at the restaurant.

"Just be ready by seven."

"Should I be dressed in a certain way?" Sherlock asked.

John narrowed his eyes at Sherlock. Did Sherlock really think that he could get away with this? Even though John wasn't as smart as Sherlock, he was not stupid.

"Wear what you think is appropriate for an one year anniversary, Sherlock."

Sherlock let out a loud exaggerated sigh and left the kitchen, leaving John to clean up the mess. Luckily Sherlock had cleaned up most of the mess, but there were still many dishes in the sink that had to be cleaned. John ran a hand through his hair, grabbed his plates, and went over to the sink where the other dishes were waiting.

Why wouldn't John tell him where they were going for dinner? Sherlock stomped into their bedroom and went over to his closet. He figured that John would want to surprise him with a restaurant, but he thought that he would at least tell him the dress code of the place. Sighing, he picked out a black suit and paired it with a purple shirt that John had bought him for his birthday a few months ago. Sherlock had had another purple shirt before, but he accidentally teared it while he was trying to climb a fence for a case. The tear was very large, and John had been able to see Sherlock's chest as they walked home that evening. John had tried not to stare while they walked back to 221B, but Sherlock caught him staring more than once.

Since that shirt had to be thrown away, John replaced it with a shirt that was almost identical to the one that he had ripped. Sherlock quickly buttoned up his shirt and rolled his sleeves to his elbows so people- so John could see his muscles. He smirked to himself as he walked out of their bedroom. John would tell him where they were going tonight.

John was just about to sit down with a cup of tea when Sherlock waltzed out of their bedroom with one of his favorite shirts. He tried to look away, but his eyes didn't want to. Sherlock smirked and sat down in his chair. He picked up the newspaper next to him and flipped opened to a random story.

"You know that it's not polite to stare, right?" Sherlock said, looking at John.

John cleared his throat and continued to make himself tea, hoping that Sherlock didn't realize how flustered that shirt was making him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The story continues!

Later on that day, John found himself gazing at Sherlock once again. He was now in the living room, trying to summarize a case that Sherlock and him completed about a week ago instead of typing about Sherlock's very defined cheekbones. Sherlock sat in his chair with his arms resting on the sides. His shirt tightened around his chest. John swallowed and glanced down at his laptop screen, hoping that Sherlock wouldn't notice how red his cheeks were. Luckily, Sherlock was watching some reality tv show, so he doubted that Sherlock would notice. His deduction powers seemed to weaken when he was watching television. Or maybe Sherlock just decided to deduce qualities about the characters instead. Every once in a while, he would hear Sherlock yelling at the television, completely astonished with one of the character's actions.

John adjusted himself in his seat until he felt more comfortable.

"You know, fidgeting in your seat isn't really going to solve anything, John." Sherlock gave John a sidelong glance. "I thought a grown man would know that."

John's lips parted. How did Sherlock know what he was trying to do? he thought to himself.

"But I-"

Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"But nothing, John. I am not dumb. I may be watching television, but I can still pay attention to other things while I watch it. It's not that difficult."

Sherlock got up from his chair and strode right over to John. John's mouth went completely dry by the time Sherlock was standing in front of him, his eyes set right on John's. John tried to look elsewhere, but it wasn't any use. The only thing that he could look at were Sherlock's blue-silver eyes. Sherlock smiled and leaned in. Before John really knew what he was doing, he leaned into Sherlock and met his lips with his own. His hands ran up Sherlock's biceps, over his shoulders, until he found his neck. He wrapped his arms around Sherlock's neck, trying to make Sherlock get closer to him. Sherlock chuckled under his breath and broke the kiss right when John wanted to take the kiss further. John groaned.

"What was that for, Sherlock?" John asked, his lips still tingling from the kiss.

"Well, you didn't want to tell me where we're going for dinner, so I'm not going to let you make-out with me."

John's lips parted; he stared at Sherlock, stunned.

"Come on, Sherlock, don't be like that. I'm not telling you where we are going to dinner because it is supposed to be a surprise."

"You know that I don't like surprises. Once we leave the flat, I'll be able to figure out where we are going, John." He leaned in until his lips were only a few centimeters away from John's. John swallowed. "There isn't any way that you can keep this away from me. So, the most logical thing for you to do would be to tell me where we are going. After all, if you tell me, I'll let us fool around before we go out to dinner."

John let out a ragged breath. Why, why did Sherlock have to be so stubborn all the time? Why couldn't he do this one nice thing for him- for them? They hadn't really gone out to any fancy restaurants since they got together. They didn't even really have time to go to a fancy restaurant during the past year, either. Once they had finished one case, another one would pop up. Since they were always working cases, they didn't really have any time to go to a nice restaurant. John wanted this weekend to be different; he wanted to take Sherlock somewhere nice without him trying to find out where they were going.

"Well?" Sherlock let his fingers' trail along John's knee.

John ran a hand through his hair. He breathed out of his nose and closed his eyes for a second, hoping to recollect himself. He could not let Sherlock affect him so much. Any other day, he would not have minded Sherlock acting this way. But today was their anniversary. Most people would want their partner to be physical on their anniversary, but he knew Sherlock worked. He wasn't acting this way just because he wanted to try to seduce John. Sherlock wanted to make John crack; to tell him where they were going to dinner.

"I'm sorry, Sherlock, but you'll just have to wait."

Sherlock frowned.

"Come on-"

"Sherlock, please. I promise that you will like this place, okay? I would not have chosen a restaurant that you would not like. Just be patient."

Sherlock trailed his fingers back down John's knee as he backed away.

"Fine."

John's thigh longed for Sherlock's touch once Sherlock stepped away from John. He bit his lip and picked up the newspaper next to the chair. Breathe, John, breathe, he commanded himself. He was in control of this situation; Sherlock now had to wait to figure out where they were going tonight. John watched Sherlock head into their room, leaving John to his thoughts.

Sherlock retreated to their room, completely stunned with how John handled that situation. Normally John would have cracked almost immediately once he felt Sherlock's fingers on him. This time though, none of Sherlock's usual tricks worked. Sherlock hit the nightstand next to the bed. Where could John possibly be taking me? he thought. He clenched his jaw and shook his head. John wasn't going to change his mind. Now, all he could do was wait.

"Come on, Sherlock!" John called from the living room. He paced around the living room. Where was Sherlock? They were supposed to leave five minutes ago. He went over to their bedroom door. "Sherlock?" he asked, placing his hand on the knob.

Right when he was about to open the door, Sherlock came waltzing out. John turned around and headed towards to front door. Sherlock glanced over his shoulder.

"Next time, don't call my name so loudly, John. I was only in the next room. It wasn't like I was in another flat."

John pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a sigh.

"What were you doing, Sherlock? You were supposed to be out here five minutes ago!"

Sherlock took his navy coat off of the hook near the door and slid his arms through the sleeves. Once it was on he grabbed his scarf and tied it around his neck.

"I was getting ready for our date. Is that a crime now?"

John quickly threw on his green jacket, opened the door, and walked over to the curb. A black cab was waiting for them. Sherlock opened the door for him and gestured for him to get into the car. John blushed slightly and slid into the car. Once they were both in the car, John spoke.

"No, it is not a crime. This night is just special and I want it to go well. I mean, this is our first anniversary, Sherlock."

Sherlock smiled and squeezed John's hand gently.

"I know. I understand."

The cabbie raised his eyebrows at their exchange, but he didn't say anything. The rest of the drive was pretty quiet. It didn't bother John, though. Some people may have wanted to fill the silence, but he was perfectly content with it.

After about fifteen minutes, they arrived at their destination. The cab drive pulled over to the curb.

"We have arrived," he said.

John hustled out of the cab and paid the driver while Sherlock got out of the cab. Once he paid the cab, John went over to Sherlock, who was staring at the restaurant. The restaurant was placed along a narrow street that was lit with street lamps. Some people walked on the sidewalk, talking quietly amongst themselves. Sherlock simply stared at the restaurant. A small smile played at John's lips.

"So, what do you think?" he asked, gesturing to the restaurant.

Sherlock smiled.

"I think that this is a very good choice for our anniversary."

"Really?"

Sherlock nodded.

"Yes, really. Now, if we were on a case, I would have said that this was a poor choice."

"I know. That's why I picked it; I knew that you wouldn't be working on any cases on our anniversary."

"That was a good idea, John," Sherlock said, stepping closer to the Italian restaurant.

John nodded.

"I have one of those once in a while." He said, throwing open the door. He gestured for Sherlock to go in. "After you, Sherlock."

Sherlock walked into the restaurant. It wasn't a very big restaurant, but it wasn't tiny, either. The bar was located along the right wall which opened right into the kitchen. The chefs were running around behind the bar, shouting orders to the servers who hid behind the wall. John walked over to the host stand to give their name.

"What's the reservation under?" The hostess asked.

"It's under Holmes," John said, glancing over his shoulder at Sherlock.

Sherlock, of course, was looking at an elder woman who was sitting by herself on a bench that was situated near the entrance. Always making deductions, John thought, shaking his head. While he didn't know that Sherlock was definitely making deductions, he could tell. Sherlock's eyes were only focused on the woman, as if he was analyzing every detail.

The hostess typed the name into the computer and nodded.

"Right. Reservation for two at seven thirty?" she asked, grabbing two menus from the side of the stand.

John nodded. The hostess smiled and motioned for them to follow her.

"Sherlock, let's go. Leave the poor old lady alone."

Sherlock had moved closer to the woman and narrowed his eyes.

"Come on, Sherlock," John grabbed Sherlock's hand and led him into the dining room, where the hostess was waiting.

"Follow me," the hostess said.

They weaved through the tables until they stopped in front of a table that was located in between two large windows that showed the street. Sherlock and John took their seats as the hostess left. John smiled at Sherlock.

"Thank you for coming to dinner with me," he said.

"Why are you thanking me, John?"

John hesitated a second before speaking.

"You didn't have to come with me, but you chose to."

"Why wouldn't I go to dinner with you?"

He shrugged.

"You probably could have found a case to start working on instead," he said quietly. His cheeks turned rosy.

Sherlock shook his head and extended his arm so his hand rested on top of John's. He squeezed it gently.

"John, I wouldn't be here if I didn't want to be here. Today is our first year anniversary. I want to celebrate that with you."

At first, John wanted to have a few friends over for their one year anniversary, but Sherlock declined that offer. He knew that some people liked to have their friends over for an anniversary celebration, but that wasn't what Sherlock wanted. All he wanted was to spend time with the person that he cared about the most.

John smiled and opened up the menu. He glanced down at the dinner items right as the waitress came over to introduce herself.

About an hour later, John and Sherlock had just finished their meals. John had ordered a pizza while Sherlock had ordered pasta with some type of shellfish in it. John didn't think that Sherlock would be able to finish the pasta, but he ate all of it.

The waitress came over with a dessert menu. She grinned at Sherlock and John as she placed the menu on the table.

"I don't know if you're interested, but there's a menu of all of our desserts. If you have any questions, feel free to ask," she placed the menu on the table and walked away, leaving Sherlock and John to themselves.

John took the menu and opened it. He quickly scanned it before looking back at Sherlock, who was staring at him with a small smile playing at the corners of his lips.

"What?"

Sherlock shook his head.

"If you want to get desert, get some. I can't promise that I'll order, but I won't stop you from getting something."

John's eyebrows raised.

"Really? You won't even complain about waiting for it to come out?"

"No, I won't."

John smiled and nodded.

"Thanks, Sherlock."

Just then, the waitress came back over to their table. She looked over at John who had finished looking at the menu.

"What can I get for you?"

"Can I have the tiramisu?"

She scribbled the order down on her notepad.

"Of course." She glanced over at Sherlock. "Can I get anything for you, sir?" she asked, batting her eyelashes slightly.

Sherlock shook his head.

"No, I'm afraid that I do not want anything. Also, batting your eyelashes won't get anyone to order more food. You would have more luck smiling at your customer."

John's mouth opened, but he didn't say anything; there wasn't any use of correcting Sherlock. Sherlock was going to do what he wanted to do. The waitress pursed her lips, turned on her heels, and left. John leaned over the table.

"You know, that wasn't very nice, Sherlock... she wasn't doing anything wrong. She only wanted us to buy more food because her boss wants her to sell the menu items."

Sherlock glanced around the restaurant. John watched Sherlock closely until Sherlock's eyes met his.

"This is a four-star restaurant. The owners of this place make plenty of money. Plus, it's Italian, and a lot of people enjoy going out to Italian restaurants. There's no reason for the managers to make the waitresses sell a ton of stuff."

John didn't say anything; Sherlock placed his napkin on the table and pushed himself away from the table.

"Excuse me; I have to use the loo," he said, getting up and going down a narrow hallway that was a few feet away from them.

John watched Sherlock go and smiled. Even though Sherlock hadn't been overly kind to the waitress, he had been nice to most people tonight, which was different for him. Sherlock always seemed to butt heads with people. John fiddled with the napkin in his lap until Sherlock strode back into the dining room. As always, he looked stunning. His curls bounced as he walked, and his cheeks were slightly rosy.

John cleared his throat and adjusted himself in the seat, but he suddenly couldn't get comfortable. Why did he have to be dating someone who looked like that? Even though John had been dating Sherlock for a year, he still couldn't wrap his head around the fact that he was dating someone who was so attractive. Sherlock pushed his seat back and sat back down; a small smirk was plastered across his face.

"What are you smiling about?" John asked.

Sherlock shrugged and took a sip of wine. John narrowed his eyes.

"Sherlock-"

He was cut off by the waitress. She placed the tiramisu down in front of John, and left as soon as the plate touched the table. John muttered his thanks and looked back at Sherlock. Sherlock gestured to the plate.

"Aren't you going to take a bite?"

John opened his mouth in protest, but didn't say anything. He took a bite of the tiramisu and closed his eyes; it was delicious. He smiled and took another bite, completely content with letting the previous conversation die away.


	3. Chapter 3

Sherlock intwined his fingers with John's as they left the restaurant. John mumbled thanks to the hostess and followed Sherlock out of the restaurant. Once they reached the curb, Sherlock let go of John's hand and hailed a cab. Sherlock opened the door for John and let him slide into the cab first. Once John was seated, Sherlock slid in until his thigh was only a few inches away from his. Sherlock placed his hand on John's thigh and gave it a light squeeze. John bit his lip. Chills ran up and down his spine. He glanced over at Sherlock who was grinning. Two can play at that game, John thought.

He scooted over closer to Sherlock so his mouth was only a few centimeters away from Sherlock's ear.

"You think that you're so clever," he murmured against Sherlock's ear. His lips brushed against Sherlock's outer ear. Sherlock immediately went rigid. John grinned. "You see? I can play, too."

Sherlock's breath came out raggedly; he looked at John's lips and then looked away. John smiled and touched Sherlock's cheek. He gently turned Sherlock's face towards him. Sherlock stared at John with wide eyes. John kissed Sherlock; at first Sherlock was rigid, but he soon melted into the kiss. His lips pressed harder against John's while he snaked his hands into the John's hair that was right on top of his neck. John moved his body closer to Sherlock's. Their knees brushed; little ice cubes climbed their way up Sherlock's spine, causing him to tremble under John's touch.

The cab driver murmured something about arriving at 221B, but Sherlock and John didn't hear him; they were too lost in their own world, completely captivated by the other person.

"Oi! You two! This isn't a kissing booth!"

John broke the kiss and turned red.

"Can you pay, John?" Sherlock asked, unbuckling his seatbelt. "I don't have any cash on me."

"Sure. I'll see you inside."

Sherlock rushed inside the flat while John paid the cab driver.

"I'm...I'm sorry about earlier," John said, tripping over the words.

The cab driver shrugged.

"Don't worry about it. I've seen all kinds of activity in the back of the cab."

John nodded and headed towards the flat, ready to crawl into bed with Sherlock and call it a night. Even though they hadn't really done anything "exciting" for their anniversary, John had had a great time. He opened the door to the flat and ran up the stairs, eager to tell Sherlock that he wanted to continue their "celebration" in their bedroom.

John smiled to himself and opened the door to the flat. That's weird, why did Sherlock close the door? John thought. He and Sherlock always left the door open.

"Sherlock?" he called as he entered the flat. "Sherlock why-"

All words escaped him when he saw the room. His mouth suddenly felt dry and he couldn't stop staring at the person that was in front of him.

Sherlock had told John that he forgot his wallet when he really didn't. He lied because he needed a few extra minutes to run into the flat and get it ready. He shut the door to the cab and walked quickly into the flat, not stopping until he was in the kitchen. He went over to the cupboard that contained a bunch of candles. Sherlock had been planning on using them for an experiment, but he could always buy new ones. He scooped a bunch up in his arms and placed them around the kitchen and in the living room. His breath came out raggedly; this had to be perfect. He re-arranged some of the candles so that they made a small circle on the coffee table in the living room.

"Better," he muttered to himself, running over to a nightstand to get the lighter.

Once he lit all the candles, he checked his pocket for the token that he wanted to give John. He smiled to himself when he felt the familiar shape of the packaging. The door that led up to the flat opened. Sherlock ran his hand through his hair and walked quickly into the middle of the room so John would see him right when he walked in. The door to the flat flew open. John was calling Sherlock's name, but he didn't answer. John would see him soon enough.

Sure enough, John cut himself off when he saw Sherlock standing there in the middle of the room with candlelight bouncing off of his thin form. Now, Sherlock, Sherlock commanded himself. Now was the perfect time. He went over to John and took his hand. He led John back into the middle of the room. John looked up at him with wide eyes, with lips slightly parted, as if he wanted to speak.

"John, there is something I must confess," Sherlock began, his voice barely above a whisper. John pursed his lips and watched Sherlock expectantly. "Before I met you, John, I never believed that I would find someone who would put up with me, who would want to learn more about me. No one has really expressed any interest in me, John. People usually call me 'freak' and leave me alone. You, however... you didn't call me a freak. You moved in with me. We became flatmates and friends... something I never deemed possible before I met you."

John shifted his foot from one foot to another. He bit his lip lightly.

"The more we spent time together, the more I wanted to learn about you. When we started to date...I didn't know what to expect. I thought that you would want to leave me after you learned even more about me. But, here you are, still with me." Sherlock took the familiar box out of his pocket and gracefully fell to one knee. His eyes met John's. John's mouth opened.

"Sherlock, what-" John began, his voice hoarse.

"John," Sherlock said as he opened the box, revealing a thin silver ring. "I never wanted to spend this much time with someone. No one was ever worth my time. But I want to spend as much time as I can with you, if you let me. If you let me, I will stay with you, just as you have stayed with me for the last few years. I never want to live without you," Sherlock licked his lips. "John, will you...will you marry me?"

John grinned.

"Yes, you idiot, of course I will," John said.

A grin spread across Sherlock's face and he leaned close to John. Their lips met; they pressed against each other's lips lightly, as if they would break the other person if they applied too much pressure. John weaved his hand into the curly hair that marked the back of Sherlock's head. He tugged lightly, pulling Sherlock closer to him. Sherlock moved closer and pressed his lips harder against John's, trying to open them with the pressure of his lips. John kissed him harder and pulled away.

Sherlock's eyes fluttered open when he felt John's lips leave his. He crossed his arms.

"Why did you do that? Were you not enjoying the kiss?" Sherlock asked, looking up at John.

John ran a hand through Sherlock's curls, hoping to calm him; his breath came out raggedly.

"Shhh, it's okay, Sherlock. You can stand up, if you want to," John said. Sherlock gave a small smile and stood up. "I was enjoying the kiss, so don't worry about that."

Sherlock furrowed his eyebrows. John wrapped his arms around Sherlock and pulled him into a hug. He rested his head against Sherlock's chest; his hands made small circles on Sherlock's back. Sherlock relaxed and let more of his weight fall against John. John smiled.

"Were you planning on proposing at the restaurant?" John asked quietly.

Sherlock pulled away and narrowed his eyes.

"Is that why you broke the kiss? Because you wanted to ask me that question?"

"Yeah, it is why."

Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"And I thought I was the one who tended to over think things."

John lightly slapped Sherlock's forearm.

"Hey! Thinking isn't a bad thing."

"It is when we're kissing," Sherlock mumbled, looking down at the floor.

John rolled his eyes and sighed.

"I'll make it up to you later, okay? If you answer my question, that is."

Sherlock's face lit up; he raised an eyebrow.

"Oh really? You'll make it up to me? How?"

"You'll just have to wait and see. Now, answer my question, Sherlock. Stop trying to avoid it."

Sherlock ran a hand through his black hair. He knew that John was probably going to ask him about the proposal and he didn't mind that. But what if John was only asking this question because he didn't like how he proposed? Sherlock shook the thought out of his head. No, John liked the proposal. If he didn't, he would have never said yes. Clearly he liked something about it. Sherlock let his breath out slowly. John crossed his arms.

"Come on, Sherlock. Tell me."

"Fine. Yes, I wanted to propose to you at the restaurant, but the restaurant refused to arrange the area like I wanted."

"How did you want it?" John asked.

"I wanted them to turn off all the lights and light candles around our table instead, but they refused to do that. They said said that it would disrupt the meals of other guests. They said that I should have rented out the whole restaurant if I wanted to propose to you that way."

John looked at Sherlock, stunned.

"Why didn't you want to wait?"

"Because I wanted to ask you tonight. You said tonight was special, so I wanted to do something that was special."

John smiled and lightly kissed Sherlock on the lips. Sherlock smiled and pressed his forehead against John's.

"Well, it was special, Sherlock."

"I did good, then?" Sherlock asked, lifting his head enough that he could just see John's face.

"Yes, you did good, Sherlock," John whispered, pressing his head back against Sherlock's. "You did well."


End file.
